York, the commander
said, from Spawn's garden. These cursed prisoners--"

"Shut! You keep watch out there. It is starting."

The guard slunk away. My attention went back to the mirror. An image
was formed there now, coming from the eye of the lens upon De Boer's
forehead. It swayed with his walking. He was evidently leading his
men, for none of them were in the scene. The dark rocks were moving
past. The lights of the mine were ahead and below, but coming nearer.

The audiphone hummed and crackled. And through it, De Boer's
low-voiced command sounded:

"To the left Is the better path. Keep working to the left."

The image of the rocks and the mine swung with a dizzying sweep as De
Boer turned about. Then again he was creeping forward.

The mine lights came closer. De Beer's whispered voice said: "There
they are!"

* * * * *

I could see the lights of the mine's guards flash on. A group of
Spawn's men gathered before the smelter building. The challenge
sounded.

"Who are you? Stop!"

And De Boer's murmur: "That is correct, as Perona said. They expect
us. Well," he ended with a sardonic laugh, "expect us."

His projector went up. He fired. In the silence of the control room we
could hear the audiphoned hiss of it, and see the flash in the
mirror-scene. He had fired into the air.

Again his low voice to his men: "Hold steady. They will run."

The group of figures at the smelter separated, waved and scattered
back into the deeper shadows. Their hand-lights were extinguished, but
the moonlight caught and showed them. They were running away; hiding
in the crags. They fired a shot or two, high in the air.

De Boer was advancing swiftly now. The image swayed and shifted,
raised and lowered rhythmically as he ran. And the dark shape of the
smelter building loomed large as he neared it.

I felt Jetta beside me: heard her whisper: "Why, he should attack and
then come back! Greko told my father--"

But De Boer was not coming back! He was dashing for the smelter
entrance. Spawn's guards must have known then that there was something
wrong. Their shots hissed, still fired high, and our grid sounded
their startled shouts. Then as De Boer momentarily turned his head, I
saw what was taking place to the side of him. A detachment of the
bandits had followed the retreating guards. The bandits' shots were
levelled now. Dim stabs of light in the gloom. One of the guards
screamed as he was s